Fallen for Piety
by BeforePeaceThereIsAStorm
Summary: Lance fell for piety, he refused to carry out his Father's will, and for that he was cast down, tossed aside to earth like little more than the trash of Heaven. He was an Archangel, for Heaven's sake - he was not nothing. He joins the Garrison, knowing it'll be the closest he ever gets to divinity once more. Then, he learns of Gabriel, and the apocalypse down below. How to choose?
1. Prologue Falling

**But Abby, you already have two active stories! Well to that I say, My land, my rules~**

**I haven't given up on the other stories, I'm ****_working _****on them (I am! Promise) but my chaotic best friend pulled (read: dragged me kicking and screaming) into the Voltron fandom, so, yay! (Grumbles) Anyways, I just wanted to say that, oh! Lance's angelic (ooooh) name is Lancael, Lan-SAY-el or Lan-sAy-el (a hard 'a', basically.) I was sleep deprived and figured, well he wouldn't just be called Lance, and so my little monstrosity was born. Things will get dark, I know this is a kid show, but- looking back on my other stories- can I even really write something kid friendly? Honestly? Also, Klance! And maybe background Destiel if they even come into this fic... I haven't planned this and it's (as I'm typing this) 3:30 am, so... Yeah, bye Love's!**

* * *

**L**ance had fallen for Piety.

He had refused- all those years ago- to commit a crime so vile, so repulsive it made even demons cringe away in disgust — or perhaps it was fear that drove them away. He refused to slaughter with his older brothers, refused to destroy families, mothers, fathers, children, refused to cut them down like little more than insects, all because his Father thought it was right. Michael- the eldest of them and the Viceroy- had tried to convince him to join in, to listen to their Father for fear of having to cast out a second little brother he loved. Raphael, third eldest and the healer had respected his decision, but did not dare question his orders, had wished him off and kissed his forehead gently. Gabriel had been the most difficult to deal with, the youngest of his fellow Archangels. He had begged and pleaded until tears filled his eyes, he had spoken about not wanting to lose another sibling. That- Lance mused- must have been when their family fell apart. Samael, now known as Lucifer. He had been cast into hell and locked away for his own Rebellion, the first- and only- Civil war in Heaven. Lance wondered if he approved of his little brothers decision.

Before he had been cast out, he had bid farewell to his hundreds of little siblings, the Seraphs, the Cupids, and everyone in between. Had kissed their foreheads and fought tears in his eyes, he said goodbye to the very siblings he had spent so long raising. At least Father let him say goodbye.

Next, to God. He refused, had stood apart, pointedly distant. He had kept his wings closed and still. His Father almost looked sad at his cold farewell. Lance couldn't bring himself to care — he could not justify acting like that with someone who had kicked him from his own home — his only one, all because he had refused to kill thousands of innocents. He loved his Father, but that was too far.

Then, he fell.

Falling- Lance couldn't help but muse on the way down- was not a very apt description. It was misleading — Lance was _dragged. _Chains of fire and steel clung to his ankle, it dragged him down passed stars and the familiar shrapnel of space he generally loved to navigate. They chipped away at him until he was burned and bleeding and screaming so loud he swore the galaxy would explode. He clung to nearby planets, leaving deep gouges in the surface that he knew would one day become a mystery to another species, one scientists marvelled at for centuries. He screamed, his true voice carried over the world in a wave, he was just thankful that his Father had suppressed it, otherwise he likely would have killed anything within range. In other words, the entire Galaxy.

* * *

He was reborn as Lance McClain — ironically enough, he was the youngest.

Hiding his wings was not a problem when he was younger, they didn't materialize until he was fourteen, and by then he had figured out how to hide them. When he joined the Garrison, however? Whole different story.

Hiding them had to have been one of the hardest things he'd ever done, they were _huge, _and- while he could use his barely-there grace to cloak them- they were hard to keep away, especially when he got angry — and Lance got angry _a lot._

Well, not angry — Lancael had always been that kind of person that was nearly impossible to make mad. He did, however, get frustrated. _Often._

However, his wings were not the hardest part about joining the Garrison, it was that he was away from earth. The shackle that had dragged him from Heaven had remained, keeping him as close to the small planet as possible, and he was actively working against it. On some days it was worse than others, and he could barely drag himself out of bed, footsteps as heavy as an entire planet weighing him down and pulling him towards it- _oh wait._

Then, he was spirited away to pilot giant robot lions in space, and he finally felt free. The shackle hurt _so _much more than it usually did in the Garrison, meaning he had a constant burn of charred flesh, black and pink that crawled all the way up his left ankle, as well as what appeared to be frostbite in the final stage, all circling the manacle. It was hot and cold at once, it felt like fire and ice, jabbing and poking him at all hours of the day and night. _There was no escape. _Lance knew it was something he would deal with forever, so he did what he could to conceal the injury and avoid the healing pods — they would do nothing except tell Allura and Coran of an injury that could not be healed. He'd tried it one night just to check.


	2. Chapter 1 Gabriel

**Translations are at bottom of page.**

* * *

**L**ance glanced up in surprise as the castle-wide intercom came on, and Allura's smooth accent rolled over him, "All Paladins report _immediately _to the meeting room." She didn't bother repeating her message, knowing everyone had heard, as well as the fact that if they missed the announcement they could just check their nearest source of tech and- with the whole '_immediately'_ thing- it would likely be blaring and absolutely _impossible_ to ignore.

He sighed and took off in a light run towards the room, it wasn't far, but he _really _didn't want to deal with a pissy Allura, who probably knew _exactly _where everyone in the castle was. Come to think of it, he- minus Shiro- was probably the least predictable, Keith was probably training, Hunk was probably in the kitchen and Pidge was probably in the hallway they had taken over for their technology and work. He had no idea where Shiro could be, but Allura- being able to control the entire castle if she wished- had no such problems — she could just check the cameras, or something similar.

He was- oddly enough- the first on the scene, so to speak. Coran and Allura were waiting just outside, and Coran went on to begin babbling to Lance about one thing or another while they waited for the others to appear.

Shiro was next- giving him a surprised glance- then Keith, Hunk and finally Pidge, leaving Coran to finally fall silent and Allura to speak up.

She pressed a silver lock behind a sharp ear, eyes serious and business-like, this was bound to be interesting. "Paladins, this morning a man came to us, he offered alliance if he was able to meet you all. We scanned the surrounding area, and are positive he came alone. He showed- and relinquished to us- weapons of what appears to be great power, and it seems that he and his race will be great allies." She shot an odd look at Coran that Lance couldn't decipher.

"He's in there?" Shiro clarified, pointing with his regular arm, grey eyes flashing slightly. Allura just nodded, watching as they shifted into a sort of formation, and then she opened the door, and stepped inside, Coran just behind her.

A man was draped (moderately) respectfully over one of the chairs, hair as black as night and skin pale, what caught Lance's attention, however, was the knife he fiddled with. It hit the light with such familiarity that it burned, the golden metal was curved, three cutting edges spanned the blade, turning and twining with each other until it formed what looked like a corkscrew. Even from where he stood Lance could see the name carved into it, could feel the grace it radiated.

"These are the Paladins of Voltron: Black Paladin, Shiro, Red Paladin, Keith, Green Paladin-" Lance barely even noticed that Allura was talking, just interrupted with wild eyes.

"-Where did you get that?" He demanded. Allura turned, mouth open to scold him, but stopped at seeing his stricken expression, her own brows furrowing. "I said, where did you get that?" He echoed again as he stepped closer, this time his voice was cold, his expression hard. His wings were spread wide, flared, and they shifted until each and every feather became silver blades, sharper than any angel blade with ease.

The man shirked, and his eyes remained infuriatingly blue, because now Lance knew exactly what this man was. Now that he'd dropped whatever had been shielding him, his senses _screamed, _everything burned, and his sight was clouded with black, he wanted to be sick even just looking at it — _demon._

"Don't you know already, Lance? I'm sure you do, you must recognize it — you made it for him, after all, didn't you?"

Lance growled, stepping forward until he passed Allura, "how the hell did you know that? Where did you get his blade, _demonio_?"

_Behind him, he heard Allura speaking with the other Paladins, "I thought he was human?"_

"_He is," Shiro answered._

"_But that word — demonio, it translates to some sort of creature…?"_

"_An old myth, I'll explain later." He sensed both Keith and Shiro stepping forward warily, and shoved it aside._

"Why, Gabriel told me- or, well," the bastard chuckled, and his smirk sent shivers down everyone's spines, "let's just say that he's a bit of an oversharer once you get him screaming."

_Hunk stepped forward to pull the Red and Black Paladins back, holding them in place. Gabriel…_

"_Hunk- what?" Shiro asked, struggling, Keith just squirmed and cursed frantically._

"_Stay out of this — if this guy hurt Gabriel…"_

_He'd only seen Lance this angry once, and it didn't end well for the Galra on the other end…_

"You bastard! You wretched, _Tolteregi doa lim(1)!" _Lance lunged, his own blade fell into his hands like he's had it with him the whole time, and he slammed the demonic bastard against the wall in the blink of an eye, weapon to his throat while Gabriel's clattered to the floor. "Do you know what this is? What it'll do to you? It will _kill _you," he pressed it harder, revelling in the faint well of blood around the blade's edge.

Fear filled the demons eyes, "hey, don't be hasty — I can help you! Just please don't kill me."

Lance smirked, "oh, I won't _kill _you, as long as you tell me everything you know about Gabriel and where he's being kept."

"_Lance!" In the background the Paladins seemed confused — this _wasn't _Lance, his voice was rough, cold, uncaring, and his eyes were practically glowing, more like the sky than their usual stormcloud blue. He wasn't a violent person, he didn't attack like this…_

_This wasn't Lance, at least not the one they knew._

_This was Lancael, the Archangel, and he was pissed._

"I-I don't know! I'm low-ranked — they don't tell me things like this! I never heard him scream, please, I was just trying to provoke you! Those were my orders!" Lance grinned, a dark, dangerous expression, and the demon _really_ wished he couldn't see Lance's bladed wings hovering ominously above them, threatening.

"And who gave you your orders?"

"The King himself! Lillith delivered it — and-and she _chose_ me, but he's the one who gave the orders! I was told to find and provoke you, to give you Gabriel's blade and tell you he was being tortured, they wanted you to save him!" The demon squirmed to escape the knife, blue eyes wide and filled with tears.

Lance tilted his head, venom dripped from his icy tone, and his eyes glowed for only the demon to see, "and yet they aren't going to tell me where he's being kept?"

He shook his head frantically, "no-no, her exact words were_ 'if you want your precious Gabriel, come and get him yourself, face your brother, you coward."_

"I see," Lance nodded, before bringing one of his wings up, pressing a bladed primary to his throat, face blank and empty, devoid of all emotion.

"Woah- hang on! What are you doing? You said you weren't gonna kill me!" The demon squirmed frantically, eyes wide and hands scrabbling at Lance's own, one which pinned his shoulder to the cool metal, and the other which held the blade. He held fast, grip unwavering.

"I'm not — I'm going to obliterate you." The demon screamed as Lance drew the wing over his throat, and he exploded in white light, his whole self, his whole existence was being ripped and torn apart, atom by atom, cell by cell. Memory by memory. Lance dropped the knife, and stepped away, watching the body fall to the floor, lifeless.

He turned, and the other Paladin's looked… scared… they were scared of him…

Lance fled.

* * *

It was Keith who found him, curled into a ball at the highest point in the castle, he was peeking his head up just enough to stare through the window at the stars. There were tears on his cheeks.

"Lance?" Oh God, Keith was _terrible _at comforting someone — let alone someone he'd just watched murder a man in cold blood. Hunk hadn't said much, just that Gabriel was Lance's brother, who'd gone missing shortly after he left, and to be fair, having your brother being tortured… Keith wasn't positive he wouldn't have done the same if it was Shiro…

Lance said nothing, just continued to stare, he looked so… broken. Keith sighed, resigning himself to it and sat down a few feet away from him, pressing his back against the cool walls, just waiting, watching. He couldn't force Lance to talk, but when he was upset he tended to do it all on his own — Keith just had to be patient. _Great._

"I killed him, Keith-" _there it is, _"-I didn't have to, and I did it anyways. I told him I wouldn't, then I slaughtered him in cold blood — all because of what he was." Lance chuckled darkly, then attempted a joke, "huh, does that make me a racist?"

Keith frowned with confusion, not knowing left a bitter taste in his mouth, "what he was — wasn't he human?"

Lance didn't answer. Figures.

"You had reason to — you thought he had tortured your brother, or at least that the people he worked for had, he was probably a pretty shitty dude anyways." Keith tried. Honestly, he was half-hoping for Shiro, or Hunk or even Pidge to just _swoop _in and save the day, to cheer Lance up and make him stop moping around. He just wished this day hadn't happened.

"That doesn't make it better!" Lance exploded suddenly, then he was looking at Keith and _holy shit his _eyes- They weren't like normal, Keith general compared them to storm clouds, or a rainy day, but this- grey-blue swirled and shifted like real clouds, like his eyes were like bottled storms thundering high above crashing ocean waves, they were _deep _and _endless _and so, impossibly _old. _Lance looked ancient in that moment, with inhuman eyes and skin that seemed almost _too _perfect, almost transparent. His hair was mussed, and he didn't look like Lance anymore — he looked like whatever had killed that man, and Keith was afraid. Something in him told him to move, _get away runrunrun _— _danger, get away before he attacks_—

Then it was gone, and Lance returned in his place.

"That doesn't make it better," he echoed quietly, turning away to look at the ground.

"It makes me just as much of a monster…"

* * *

Lance ran a gentle hand through his wings, thankful that his Father had at least allowed him to keep them. He didn't know what he would do if he couldn't fly…

Late at night- when he was sure no one would notice his absence- Lance would fly. He didn't need any sort of sleep, so he was able to drift freely and calmly through space like he used to as an angel. He almost encountered Michael at one point, but his brother had left before he could spot him — he had only felt the telltale swirl of grace leftover behind him. Lance sighed, removing a hand as a flicker of disgust ran through him.

A knock sounded at the door, a familiar, telltale pattern that Lance recognized as Hunk before he even announced his presence. Everyone had been avoiding Lance the last few days — everyone except Hunk and Keith. "Lance, buddy? Can I come in?" He sounded concerned, and Lance assumed he must have missed dinner again while lost in his thoughts.

"One second!" He called back, tucking his wings beneath his jacket as best as he could and using his grace to create a shimmering field (to him) of a glamour, before he opened the door with a slight smile. "Hunk, hey."

His eyes flicked down to a familiar plate of goo, green and not in the slightest bit appetizing, but he smiled brighter nonetheless. "Is that for me? Did I miss dinner again?" Lance had always been a little off on his timing, so losing track of his thoughts for several hours and skip a meal was actually quite common, thankfully, however, Hunk was very meticulous about his eating habits.

"Yeah, what were you doing this time?" He stepped inside when Lance moved away, setting the plate down on the nightstand and then making himself comfortable on the bed.

Lance let out a relaxed breath when the door slid shut behind him, and leaned back against it, storm-blue eyes bright and flashing in the dim room. He had the lights off, all except for a single lamp, which painted the room a soft shade of gold, he could almost imagine the light flickering as if a candle stood in its place. "Just the usual: thinking, reading, sleeping. It's been a pretty slow day, huh?"

Hunk nodded. "Were you thinking about home?" He asked carefully after a moment. Family- he knew- was a bit of a sore spot with Lance, he was constantly homesick, though no one could ever truly understand the extent of it. He loved his human family, _so _much — they reminded him of his old family before the Rebellion, kind, caring and always there. More than that, however, Lance missed his angelic family. He missed Michael, a strong, stable presence, he missed Lucifer, who had been a great older brother before the fall, a firm but gentle teaching hand. Raphael, steady and calm, always there despite being younger. Little Gabriel, the youngest of the Archangels, sweet and mischievous and loved by everyone… and possibly being kidnapped and tortured right now- _no! _Lies, it was all lies. Think about something else, Seraphs, Cupids- he missed the others, too, he missed the (usually) stuffy Seraphs who took everything- especially pranks- _way_ too seriously. He missed all the little footsoldiers and regular angels, who looked up to him in awe for his rank, despite the fact that he had raised the little buggers and rolled around in the dirt with them. He missed the Cupids, who showered him with hugs and affection any time he even passed through their part of Heaven. Lance missed home. _A Lot_.

"Yeah, I was…" He told Hunk of both his families, combining them until they seemed like one. He told of his Mami, of his Niece and Nephew, of Veronica, and added in his own stories about a few specific members of his angelic family. "Little Cassie struck out, I _know _it, I can feel it-" he put a hand to his chest, knowing Hunk would assume he meant intuitively, "-he's gone, and the others probably aren't happy about that. I'm proud of him, he wasn't made to stay home, my little hermano (2) was made to adventure and explore and _love._ He has so much of it to give, and he can't do that at home — at least not the way he wants to — and Gabriel, my Olapireta…(3) He's still missing, and I think he's probably out looking for me, and he can't- won't- he'll never know where I am…" Lance sighed when he saw Hunk's expression, he was talking about earlier, "what if he wasn't lying? What if they really _do _have my little Olapireta? What if… what if he really is being tortured…?" He switched between Spanish- the language he had already known, but been taught by his mother anyways (and spent most of his childhood using)- English, which was the only one Hunk really spoke, and Enochian, his first language, his home language. It felt good to spill his emotions out to Hunk, he was an amazing listener, and he had known Lance the longest here. He never questioned how he always seemed to know things, either. Hunk drew Lance into a hug, and it felt nice, he was warm, and it seemed to fill some of the void in his chest where his grace and connection to home had once lived. It soothed the worries he had been trying to shove off ever since their little guest the other day, made it seem like it was all some big dream.

"Well, Castiel's probably found someone amazing if he left home like that, I mean, you always talk about how much he loves everyone, even after that fight." Lance nodded into Hunk's chest. "And don't worry about Gabriel, they could have gotten his blade a _million _different ways, he's probably out there looking for you right now, and he'd probably call you an idiot for ever believing anything those guys said about him. He's strong, remember? That's what _you _told me, that he and Cas were the strongest of all you guys."

"Yeah, you're right. Thanks, Hunk." He smiled slightly, unable to resist picturing the scene.

They hugged for a few more moments, before the familiar, blaring alarm separated them.

* * *

Lance got ready as quickly as he could, meeting back in the hanger completely suited up in record time — for him, at least.

"We've gotten reports of a Galra ship circling a nearby planet, the Blade of Marmora has confirmed that only high-ranking officials are permitted aboard, they don't know what's on it, but it must be important. We'll be backing you up in the castle, just out of sight. Good luck, Paladins." Allura's voice was smooth and professional as always, she briefed them, then Lance was filing into Blue, reveling in her purr, which rumbled softly in the back of his mind.

He flicked a few familiar switches, watching as she lit up eagerly, prepared for battle before they even left the hanger. "Come on, girl," together as one they took off, following the largest of the lions towards their newest battle.

Lance was comfortable with Blue, comfortable enough that he let his wings out, which- as long as he had his cameras off (which he usually did)- was alright. He allowed the two of them to stretch and mill about the lion behind him while he worked, narrow eyes focussed and glowing now that he was using his limited grace to look after the other Paladins and scout ahead for them. He had a bad feeling about this mission — something about it just wasn't right, it felt… sick.

He didn't understand why until it was too late — until they'd already managed to infiltrate the ship, then he finally knew. Demons.

Lance froze momentarily, behind him his wings twitched with unease. Demons weren't good, anything involving demons was bound to go wrong. Galra were consulting with- _monsters, _abominations, the lot of them. Demons had no choice, but Galra? To willingly consult with creatures that murdered, tortured and raped- for _fun? _It made him sick, his grace rolled and recoiled, rippling. Demons were tortured themselves until their soul was mangled, until there was nothing left of their humanity, until they were shells of what they once were — _then _they became demons, then they killed, tortured and raped on the orders of whoever happened to be in charge; but _Galra…? _Suddenly Lance wanted his grace back, even if just to smite every last one of the bastards out of existence.

"Lance?" Keith hissed, annoyed. They had been sent off together in one direction, while Hunk and Shiro took another route, and Pidge was busy working to hack the system as best they could. He didn't answer, just brushed by the Red Paladin, a bit of his angelic ego came back to play as he didn't bother checking for Galra before stepping into the open. He knew they weren't there anyways.

Instead, it was a familiar form. Lance wanted to choke, to scream and cry, he knew exactly who was standing before him, no matter how different he looked. Gabriel smirked, then vanished in a flash, all that was left behind was his voice, broken and _so _sad.

"Lance? Why are you doing this- we-we can talk this out- Lance please don't leave me, not like Lucy- _please._" Lance took a step back, hyperventilating as he probed the area with his grace. Not Gabriel _NotGabrielNotGabrielNotGabriel _He repeated like a mantra in his mind, eyes wide. No grace, there was no grace, it _wasn't Gabriel._

"Lance?" He turned, Keith had his brows furrowed, and he looked- surprisingly- less assholish than usual, and… even a little concerned.

"Fine, fine. I'm fine." He felt more like he was convincing himself than Keith, and shook his head, stepping further into the hall. They needed to get moving — he was the only one who could do anything if they encountered a demon. Lance tightened his graces grip on his blade.

The halls looked just like any Galra ship, they were dark, illuminated only by an eerie purple glow, and the shadows looked as if they were _writhing. _Lance wrinkled his nose, curling his wings around him in a half-spread motion. He had somehow ended up in front- though he suspected that was only so Keith could keep an eye on him- and was leading his way through the winding halls, following the familiar, dark feeling of demonic energy. It was like sludge, thick and black as it rolled over his grace, making him shiver despite the too-warm air. He _hated _the feeling of demons, they were revolting and dark, and it tickled in all the wrong ways at a part of Lance that he had buried when he left Heaven, the part that called for bloodshed and violence. The part of him that he was created for, his original purpose — a mindless soldier who did only what his Father commanded.

He sighed, casting a glance over his shoulder at Keith, storm blue meeting deep violet. Well, at least he knew his assumptions were correct, Keith wanted to keep an eye on him, and a close one, at that. It would have been so much easier if Keith was in front — he could have wrapped his wings around _both _of them, and it would have been a much more solid defence.

"Hey guys?" Shiro's voice crackled over the comm, interrupting Lance's thoughts and sounding nervous and even more confused than Lance had ever heard him.

"What?" It was Keith who responded — Lance was too busy trying to use his grace to sense where he was.

Lance could practically _hear _the frown in Shiro's voice, "we- uh… we have an entire cell block of what looks like humans-"

"-Humans?" Shiro just carried on as if Pidge hadn't spoken at all.

"-And they're all asking for Lance…"

The angel in Lance took over, "what colour are their eyes?" he demanded coldly, if he was right than the demons _wanted _him to know who he was dealing with, wanted to scare him. They'd have their eyes on display.

"Lance wh-" Keith began, cut off by Shiro's wary voice.

"Black," he sounded unsure of himself suddenly, "they're… black, all of them, not an iris or anything, just… empty…"

"Get out of there, Shiro, Hunk, _now." _He paused for a second in his speaking as he- with Keith following- took off swiftly in the direction where he could feel the two's signature."Tell them I'm coming, and that I'll be pissed if anything happens to either of you. Keep an eye out — they aren't prisoners, Shiro, they're _allies."_

"We can hear you, Lancael," a cold voice echoed over the intercom, sending shivers down his spine, "don't worry, your _wittle fwiends _are safe with us." His voice was mocking, and Lance understood the threat. _Hurry up, Angel, or else._

He had never been more thankful for not only his enhanced speed, but also his long legs in his life. He practically soared ahead of Keith, eyes narrow and wings spread wide to give him even more of an advantage. They were bladed.

Naturally, they had landed themselves on the whole other side of the ship, and it took- even despite his speed- a total of fifteen minutes to get to the cell block. Unsurprisingly, they encountered no Galra, who were likely lying in wait to ambush him on the demons command.

Shiro and Hunk had their guns at the ready, waiting just at the entrance of the hallway to keep an eye on the locked cells. It was Shiro who stepped forward to speak with him, "Lance, what's going on here?" Hunk shot him an encouraging look over their command- over Shiro's back.

"Nothing, C-Black Paladin. I've got this." He couldn't force himself to completely relinquish titles. Lance took a breath, then slammed his hand against the wall, creating a loud _bang _that resonated throughout the whole block, carrying- unknown to his fellow Paladins- a wave of his grace.

"I'm here, you sick fucks, now which one of you is in charge?" He shouted, earning a ripple of giggles. In return, a single, cell door slid open.

Lance inhaled deeply, then started towards it, trying to fall back into his old archangel persona, which he had commanded during many of the great wars that marred Heaven's history, most notably, The Rebellion, and the war against The Destroyer. These were measly demons — ants compared to him. He may have fallen, but he was still an archangel, and he still had enough in him to kill a couple hundred demonic grunts in the blink of an eye. He stopped at the entrance and peered in, well aware of his fellow Paladins crowding in behind him with varying expressions of confusion and worry. Only a single demon occupied the cell. His eyes were a glowing yellow.

Hundreds of grunts were no problem, a Prince of Hell, however? That was a whole different story.

"Asmodeus." Lance greeted stiffly, flaring his wings. "It's been awhile, huh? How's it going for you now that Luci's been locked up? Azazel too, thought I heard from the grapevine he'd been killed by the Michael sword.

"Oh it's been great, Lancael, Azazel's dead, Ramiel decided to take up his true position once he learned how much his little brother had been slandering him," his eyes flashed, "he sent me to find you — I mean, how often is it that you hear your long-lost older brother is hiding out fighting aliens in space using a- I believe his words were- giant, magical, robot lion?" Lance said nothing, just watched him pace like a caged animal, which- considering who was standing in front of him- he was. Seeing this wasn't getting through, the Hell Prince just smirked. "And there must have been another reason… I could have sworn- oh yeah. Have you been told about Gabriel yet?" Lance froze, and Asmodeus noticed his weak spot had been found, and smirked wider.

"Yes, little brother ran away, didn't he? Looking for you, I was told — or he _was _looking for you… then he stumbled into Dagon and Ramiel…" Lance _growled, _stepping forward and revelling in the way cold yellow eyes flashed briefly with fear. "Oh yes, I remember now," he covered, then his voice twisted and morphed into a familiar one, frightened and filled with pain.

"_Stop, please stop! Lance- Lance help, Michael? Luci please make him _stop. _Raphie? Raphie I'm-I'm sorry!" _He screamed, then the next words had Lance's blade falling into his hands with ease, "_Ag pilah, a a dooain de a Goaal! Ol bogira vaoresa elasa ta a nor od micaelazodo noco de Elo!" (4)_Gabriel, it was Gabriel, and he was begging for help, even reverting back to enochian as the pain grew too much for him to speak English.

"Camliatza zomdv gohed aisaro adagita zomdv Exentaser, Tolteregi," (5)Lance gave Asmodeus no warning, charging mid-sentence with his blade raised, growling like he had all of Heaven behind him once more.

A loud _clang _echoed through the room as steel met steel, he swore sparks flew for a moment as their eyes locked, then he was tossing it aside like nothing and stepping forward to try and land a blow on the Hell Prince's chest, eyes glittering the colour of ice — and equally as cold. He quirked an eyebrow, and drew his much larger sword up, making Lance step back with a powerful blow, "you think you can kill me, Fallen?" He smirked.

"You are the weakest of your brothers, _hell,_ Dagon is barely even close to Ramiel or Azazel's power and he's a _deity _— you are nothing!" Lance spat, he could feel himself changing, sinking back into the cold normalcy he'd obtained from his eons commanding his own garrison in Heaven. He didn't feel like himself anymore — and he wasn't, not truly. He was Lancael, and he had a bone to pick with Asmodeus.

He tossed his archangel blade aside, and summoned his sword. The beautiful steel was alit with crackling electricity, hot and white and deadly enough that Asmodeus took a step back, eyes wide. He lost his surprised look soon enough, "didn't think you had it in you, even Ramiel could never get it up," he smirked, "but then again — you aren't Ramiel, are you? You were above him before they booted you." Lance gave a shout of anger and stepped forward, cracking the blade down as hard as he could over Asmodeus's, watching with satisfaction as his smug look fell slightly, and his arm crumpled beneath the blow, swinging aside.

"_Sometimes I forget how strong of a fighter Lance is…" Hunk spoke up behind him, watching with surprise, eyes wide._

_Keith moved to take a step forward, but a hand stopped him. Shiro._

"_Don't interfere _— _this is Lance's fight."_

"_And if he kills that guy?" Pidge asked from their place at Hunk's side, pushing up their glasses._

"_...Then we need to have a serious talk with Lance…" Shiro sounded worried, hesitant._

_Keith frowned back at him, "you guys weren't there _— _he was so guilty about the last mans death…"_

"_Still…"_

Lance's element might have been hot, but he was cold. Lance's anger was like ice, it chilled and spread over everything, infecting it. It stung, it numbed, it crept up on you until you didn't realize how much damage it had really dealt, until you'd already lost everything vital. Lance's anger was dangerous, it sliced and attacked with deadly speed and accuracy, before retreating to watch the aftereffects take place. Lance's anger was cold, it was earth shattering — and he could bring the world to its knees if he so willed it.

Asmodeus stepped back as the room heated up, and another vicious blow drew his sword from him, sending it clattering to the floor.

"Now, Lance, I don't think you really need to _kill _me," He held up his hands as the blade was pointed at his throat, yellow eyes narrow. "Don't be drastic — I know where Gabriel is!"

"No you don't," Lance shook his head, "Ramiel would never tell you a thing… you don't know where my brother is-" he smirked. "-And if you do…"

"Don't worry, I'm sure Michael will get it out of you." Asmodeus's eyes widened, and he opened his mouth, pleading for mercy, begging for Lance to kill him instead, to spare him that fate — but Lance had no reason to listen to a Hell Prince. A cold, glowing hand landed on his forehead, and the demon disappeared in a flash of light, landing himself right in the middle of the Commander's office, still pleading for his mercy.

Lance dropped the electricity circling his blade, sheathing it in a holder that had taken _far _too much grace to summon and forge a false memory of, it was enough to leave him feeling quite winded, and he wondered if he might lose his grip on his wings then.

Everyone was watching him with varying levels of concern, horror, confusion and surprise. _No hiding he wasn't human now… not unless he forged another memory… _God fuck- he wasn't ready for this, he had to-

Lance reached out for the link in their mind, forcing it to the _very_ thin bond connecting them to Allura, who was his bridge to Coran, then forged a memory of Asmodeus fleeing on them. He only had a moment to put as much power as he could into his glamour before he collapsed, and the world went dark.

* * *

**Translations**

(1) Creature of sin (Enochian)

(2) brother (Spanish)

(3) Light (Enochian)

(4) No more, in the name of the Creator! I reign over you as the son and mighty servant of God!" (Enochian)

(5) Speak your everlasting promise to your Mother of All (Eve), Monster (Enochian)


End file.
